


Muggle Integration Studies

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-02
Updated: 2007-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry lectures evening classes for adult wizards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lesson 1: The Basics

Harry stood all alone at the bottom of the lecture-theatre, the focus of nearly two hundred eyes. He was positive that the majority of them were simply here to gawk at him, then return and tell their friends excitedly that Harry Potter was _teaching_ them... _something_! He gave a nervous smile and a flutter ran through the room.

As soon as the clock struck seven pm, he gave the main door an expectant look and it closed gently, the key turning in the lock. Harry was a person who hated tardiness.

"Good evening," he said, trying to keep his voice cool under the _Sonorous_. He clenched the edge of the desk and refrained from pulling his hand through his hair; Hermione had spent hours trying to get it just a little tidier. He had placed his cane in a corner; no need to show the students his limp. "Welcome to Muggle Integration Studies. Kindly take a look at your class outline," his eyes grew hard as half of the class continued to gaze at him, while the other half diligently flipped through their sheaves of parchment. " _Now_."

A lot of them jumped to obey and Harry relaxed, suppressing a small self-satisfied grin. At times, it was great being a Hero. When they had finally perused their listing, Harry cleared his throat and begun.

"So, I think the first thing we need to explore is that phenomenon Muggles call electricity. Can anyone tell me what they understand electricity to be?"

There was a long pause as the adult wizards peered at him and whispered to each other. Harry pressed his hip against the desk and was just going to call a random name from his class-list when a pale hand in the third row went up in the air.

"If I may, Professor Potter."

Harry stiffened and blinked at Draco Malfoy's impassive face.

"It's just Harry, Mr. Malfoy... or if you prefer, _Potter_. Go ahead."

Malfoy pursed his thin lips and the witch beside him fanned herself.

"Well. From what I understand, lightning is a raw form of electricity. Muggles have the means to reproduce it, control it to provide power." His grey eyes fixed on a shocked Harry. "Am I right?"

"Yes," Harry croaked and cleared his throat again; the class buzzed. "Quite right. There's a whole lot more to it, based in Muggle physics, but that sums it up quite nicely. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Of course, _Harry_ ," Malfoy said, smiling slightly. Harry stared at him and then tore his gaze away.

"Right. So, Muggles use electricity to run nearly all their devices. Their homes are lit with it, sometimes warmed by it." Quills scratched furiously at his words. "It's a secondary source, which means they have to harness the energy from a primary source to create the power. The majority of the time, they use oil from the earth, which is a point of contention now in terms of pollution and supply. They also depend on water, the sun and nuclear energy." He smiled at the creases of confusion on their faces. "Look, it can all be confusing, but here's the important part. If you happen to find yourself in a Muggle home, you will more than likely see small panels on the walls. Each of these is called a _switch_."

Harry turned to the board behind him and pulled down a large white sheet of paper that was rolled up. He had managed to convince Dean to do some small drawings for him and had enlarged them. On this particular sheet, a perspective into a Muggle room was drawn in Dean's clear hand.

"And...They use this switch to let the light on?" One tiny wizard speculated in the front row. Harry nodded excitedly.

"Yes! And here, this is called an outlet. Many Muggle devices have a long black cord called a plug attached to them, so that you put the plug in the outlet to power the device." Harry waved his wand and a little sketch-man appeared, holding a sketch-toaster. The wizards watched as the animated man bent and pushed the plug into the outlet. Slices of bread popped out of the toaster.

"Different countries might have different arrangements of their plugs, so you have to be careful, because the wrong use of electricity can be dangerous. And that's a toaster, by the way. It toasts your bread to how dark you want it. But that's for another lesson."

"But do they all need to walk around with these plug-cords?" An elderly witch in a large purple hat piped up. "Won't they trip all over them in the streets?"

"No. There are small objects that are called batteries that hold portable energy for use. Here are some." Harry opened a drawer of the desk and levitated different sizes of batteries to his students. They grabbed onto them and pored over the round little barrels, passing them to each other. Harry grinned; he was reminded of Mr. Weasley's excitement when Harry was running though his lesson-plan at the Burrow. He was certain that Arthur had stuck a few of the batteries in the pockets of his robes. He told them that all devices had some sort of switch on them, to 'turn on' the device.

After retrieving the batteries, he informed them that at times, electricity-supply failed and Muggles went back to lamps, candles, fires and a lightstick called a _flashlight_ that ran on batteries until it returned.

"Or they have a back-up system," he continued firmly, "To provide a continuous supply. Alright, Seamus."

Finnegan, who was seated in the far corner, stood up with a flat wooden panel in his hands that he set on the table with a cheeky grin to Harry. The rest of the class was craning their necks to look at the crude construction as Harry pointed with his wand to the different components.

"So, like I said, here's the switch. Here is a battery...and a light bulb. These wires run the power from the battery, via the switch, to the bulb. I have to place a ward over it so that the magic in this room doesn't interfere with the power-supply of the battery. Mr. Malfoy? Would you like to come and turn on this on?"

Malfoy looked as if he would prefer to do something else. Like fall off a cliff. He got up anyway, pulling his robes close as he strode down the wide steps. A small blue dome of light flickered over the demonstration-panel and Harry nodded to him; he stretched his hand out, made a face at the sensation of the ward against his skin and gingerly pushed the switch from off to on.

The room gasped as the light bulb glowed. Malfoy looked inordinately pleased.

"So there's a big battery in every Muggle house?" he asked Harry, removing his hand and tucking it in his robe-sleeves to accompany the other.

"No, not the way you think. You can say that a massive battery powers whole communities. It looks nothing like the small ones, though." A small chime rung though the room and Harry flicked off the switch before cancelling the tiny ward. "Time's up, then. And for your assignment, find one Muggle-born witch or wizard and have them tell you about an appliance that runs on electricity. I want four inches on what they say." He grinned at their groans. "See you all next week."

Malfoy still hovered near him as Harry tidied his desk. Finally, Harry gave him a slightly exasperated look.

"Yes?"

"That was a fair enough lesson," Malfoy ground out. He was staring at the darkened light-bulb. "I have to admit, when my work-place forced me to take this course, I was highly displeased."

Harry nodded, giving Seamus the panel to dismantle. He had heard that Malfoy was just made the Under-Secretary to the Minister for Magic...which meant that he would have increased contact with Muggle politicians that were aware of their existence.

"Well. Look at it this way: you'll be on even footing with Muggles. You won't act silly in their presence."

Malfoy _hummed_ with haughty amusement. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find a Muggle-born and extract information from them."

"Don't do it the Malfoy way," Harry warned, trying not to laugh. They'd always had that awful joke during the war, trying to find humour hunkered down in their hiding-places: how Malfoys did things the Malfoy Way....which may or may not have involved dungeons and chains. Draco's mouth simply tilted in a wry smile of recollection; he nodded at both Harry and Seamus and strolled out.

"You always did take the fun out of everything, Potter," he said airily, making sure to Apparate before Harry could get in a last word.

***

"How was it?" Hermione asked excitedly as she Floo'ed into the flat, exactly in time for dinner. She gave Ron a huge kiss on the cheek before limping over the dining-table, making pleased noises over the steaming platters that Ron had lain out under a warming spell. She and Harry had undergone the same torture during the war, curse-damage to their legs; Harry's was worse, since he still had to depend on his cane, but Hermione only had a small limp now. Harry made his way over and sat down stiffly, biting the inside of his lower lip as his right knee muttered in pain.

"Fine," he replied, nodding when Ron levitated the mashed potatoes over. The spoon dug out three hearty helpings before serving Hermione. "Malfoy was in the class. He said he liked the lesson, even though he was _highly displeased_ when they forced him to take it."

"Yeah, if _highly displeased_ means throwing a bitch fit," Ron said dryly, making sure to put lots of carrots into both their plates. Harry pouted and Ron sighed, adding another forkful. "Dad said when he heard it was you, he nearly blew the place up."

Hermione laughed and then choked on her mouthful of food. Ron clapped her soundly on the back and conjured a glass of water.

"Sorry. It's just that when it comes to Harry, Malfoy always overdoes it. Anyone can tell he wants to get into Harry's pants."

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved his peas around. Ron gave him a glowering look and he ate them meekly.

"Not _that_ again. I've told you during the war and I'll tell you again: Malfoy isn't interested."

" _Right_." Ron simply served him another helping of pot-roast, completely ignoring Harry's half-hearted protests. "Anyway. What's the next lesson?"

"Muggle-dress," Harry said impishly. "And you both are going to be two of my models. Hey, you should see your faces. What's for dessert?"


	2. Lesson 2: Muggle Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry lectures evening classes for adult wizards.

"Hey, these jeans make my butt look good." Hermione turned and posed in the mirror, eying her own rear in appreciation. Her reflection blew a kiss to Ron's reflection, which blushed just as much as Ron himself. She straightened up and gave Ron an appreciative look. "Oh, Ron. You look dapper in that suit. You really should wear them more."

"Yes. It would make me look so very awesome during the housework," Ron said, tugging at the smart lapels wryly. "Thanks, Harry. You said I could keep this, right?"

"Yeah, I did. Luna?" He stared as Luna came out of the little back-room that served as an office to the lecture-theatre. She had on a one-piece bath-suit in a shocking orange colour, tiger-print fluffy boots on her feet. "Um. Aren't you cold?"

"Not at all!" Luna wrapped a long cloak about herself extravagantly and perched on one of the single seats placed right next to Harry's desk. "I feel so sexy. Like a Wrackspurt. Only not with the dizziness."

Harry continued to stare at her, then shook himself visibly as his students began to stream in, handing him their parchments. As he banished the long mirror and shoo'd the rest of his models to their seats, he was not surprised to note that the numbers of students had dwindled a bit. The novelty had worn off, he supposed, but it had been sort of nice to see the turnout. The Wizarding World had sworn up and down that bigotry against Muggle-borns would not continue after the demise of Voldemort, but magical people were still _people_ , prone to relapse.

A murmur ran through the room and Harry turned to see Malfoy sail into the lecture hall... wearing jeans. And a snug t-shirt. Harry's brain tried to flee in several directions at once: one part immediately went into shock over a _Malfoy_ wearing a _t-shirt_ ; somewhere, Narcissa Malfoy was shrieking in horror. Another section of his mind noted how co-ordinated it all was, the dark-blue of the jeans complementing the lighter blue of the t-shirt; and yet another part, the largest (and apparently the part that controlled all the blood in his body, sending it to all sorts of parts that didn't _need_ it at this time, dammit) opined that Draco Malfoy had a very nice body, with even nicer legs that went on forever and it would be a horrible crime if that body was covered by robes _ever again_.

"Potter," Malfoy grinned in greeting, handing over his own neat essay. Harry took it with not a little surprise, skimmed through it and then chuckled weakly. His brain was still gleefully busy trying to imagine what Malfoy's ass looked like in those jeans.

"An electric blanket? Whatever made you choose that to report on?" 

Malfoy gave him a sidelong look.

"I am fashionably slender, Potter. The price I pay is being cold all the time. I need someone to warm me up... dear me," he continued in genial tones as Harry's eyes widened. "Did I say _someone_? I meant _something_. Such a slip of this talented tongue. Ah, there's Nola, let me take my seat."

"Don't even start," Harry breathed at a smug-looking Ron, even as he thanked his stars for whoever invented jeans, surreptitiously eyeing Malfoy's rear. "Just don't."

"Hi, welcome back," he started unsteadily, steadfastly ignoring the titters of his friends behind him. "This section is Muggle dress. Most of you, especially those younger ones, might have an idea of all this. Muggles, for the most part and in the English culture, do not wear robes." Harry rolled his eyes at their exclamations. "It's not so bad, really. The only drawback is that they don't have warming or cooling charms woven into the material."

"So how do they deal with the temperature?" called a large wizard from the very back. "Do they go starkers in the summer?"

"You wish," Harry retorted, trying not to laugh too hard with his class. "They wear a lot less, though. And layer like crazy in the winter. Alright, shopping for Muggle clothes is easy. Most clothing stores are divided into male and female sections, and sometimes even by age-group or size. There are items of clothing that might look like a Wizarding robe, but they might be simply cloaks or dresses. Miss Granger?"

Hermione stood up and paraded along the front of the class, her limp almost non-existent. Harry shook his head as she sashayed from one end to the other, noticing Malfoy actually _nodding_ in approval.

"The trousers she has on are called jeans or denims. You might have seen the younger ones of us in them. They're worn by both sexes, as you can see on Mr. Malfoy, in fairly casual situations, although some fashion magazines say you can dress them up for going out. She also has on a t-shirt, another bit of casual wear, also worn by both males and females. You would wear this around the house or drinking with your mates, not to a dress-party. Mr. Weasley?"

Ron made sure to brush against Hermione as they exchanged spots and she blushed. Ron smiled nervously as the class peered at him in the dark suit, walking quickly.

"This is a Muggle-suit for men, usually worn to business meeting and some formal affairs, with a different tie...yes, a bowtie, the same ones we wear with dress-robes. Women wear suits as well in most of their work-places, but with a softer cut or a skirt. And high-heeled shoes. Please show them, Miss Abbot."

It was Hannah's turn to display a smart pin-striped outfit, her heels clacking along the stone floors. Most of the witches looked highly interested. Then they goggled when Parvati strolled away in a little sundress and sandals, the scars on her upper arms hidden by the frilly sleeves.

"Potter, did _you_ choose these suits?" Malfoy said suspiciously. "They look...nice. Good quality, even."

"Really, Malfoy. I'm not _that_ blind," Harry said, refraining from rolling his eyes. "Give me some credit, yeah?" In the few years since he had fought with Draco, he had managed to forget how he had tried everything to annoy Harry. It had almost been as bad as in school, because apparently Draco Malfoy made up for all his evil acts by being _more_ distracting. It could have been the Malfoy Way, Harry wasn't too sure.

The students stared when Luna slinked across the floor in her bathsuit and boots.

"I know we all have swimsuits. But most Muggles tend not to pair them with that type of footwear."

"They do!" Luna cried as she took her seat again.

"On the fashion runways, maybe," Harry retorted and instantly regretted this as people demanded to know what a fashion runway was. He wasted fifteen minutes explaining designers and models and high-end clothing.

Malfoy explained smoothly to the rest of the class, "So what he's saying is that there are some clothes that only the very rich and very beautiful can afford. And there are Houses of designers, which is outrageous. And by outrageous, I mean delightfully elitist."

Harry glared at him, but Malfoy winked and for a moment Harry forgot his lesson-plan.

"Accessories," Seamus whispered helpfully and Harry leapt only a little.

"Accessories! Thanks. Ok, so Muggles wear earrings, watches, necklaces and bracelets just as we do. They also use belts on their jeans and trousers, like what Seamus has on there, and that on his head is a baseball cap. Shay, put on the shades as well. Fancy, right? Those are glasses like mine, only they serve to protect your eyes from strong sunlight. Or to simply look rich.

And now we'll go on to undergarments. These go under your clothes, right next to your skin. _Not over your clothes_. And they might be a little skimpier than our Wizarding wear, but that's the style, I guess. But they're mostly the same."

Harry was proud of himself. He didn't even blush that much when he pulled brassieres, panties and slips out of a small wooden box. It was only when Draco Malfoy insisted on _fondling_ the silk boxers that he felt his face grow hot.

"How decadent these are," Malfoy murmured as he stared at Harry. "Do you have these on, Potter?"

Harry laughed to cover his shock. The rest of the class looked highly interested.

"Errr. No...ordinary cotton ones. I can't bother with those. Next class!" He hollered, before the flinty gleam in Malfoy's eye could make its way to his mouth. "Next class is about Muggle entertainment. There are no assignments today. If you like, you can wear Muggle clothes tomorrow. It's not a requirement, though."

"As long as I get these on my body, I'll be content," Malfoy declared, shaking out the silk boxers and peering at them with a loving eye as the ending chime sounded and the class began to stream out. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye as he made his way over to the desk, placing something on it with a flourish.

"For teacher," Malfoy said complacently and Harry blinked at the large bright red-apple. "I just want to get into Professor Potter's good books."

There was a loud whisper behind them that might have been Ron saying ' _or pants_ ' and Harry very nearly turned and skewered him with his cane.

"Tomorrow is Muggle entertainment? Maybe I can get some extra credit by taking you to a club tonight," Draco said, pushing the apple forward slightly, temptingly. Harry stiffened.

"I don't dance. Not anymore." He tried not to limp too much as he rounded the table to collect more papers. They were snatched up and arranged quickly by a set of nimble pale fingers. Draco smiled as he handed the neat sheaf over.

" _Everyone_ dances, Potter. Vertically or otherwise. Tomorrow, yes?" And he patted Harry comfortingly on the shoulder, that simple touch burning into Harry's skin, before he swanned out.

"What kind of _dancing otherwise_ could he be talking about, teacher?" Luna piped up innocently and Harry glowered at them all as they fell over each other, giggling helplessly.


	3. Lesson 3: Muggle Entertainment

Harry was giving his sweetest smile to a clerk in the Virgin Megastore in Piccadilly, hoping that his purchase of a CD would make his request for some old posters more acceptable. He wanted a few to demonstrate some Muggle media to his class and had already gotten Ron to part with his precious DVD player and laptop for one day. Hermione had laughed at Ron's pouting face, saying that he just wanted to watch his porn.

Ron's leer had been impressive.

"I'll see what I can do... Harry, is it?" The clerk was saying to him now, a tall young man with strange pink stripes in his black hair. Harry nodded and the clerk winked, walking off in the direction of a supervisor.

"Such a flirt, Potter," came a voice right in his ear and Harry wheeled around as fast as his cane could allow. Malfoy stood considering him, both hands full of flat plastic cases, the topmost one bright pink and thicker than the others.

"Malfoy," Harry managed. "What are you _doing_ in here?"

Malfoy's innocent look was so very unconvincing. Harry blinked at him as the grey eyes seemed to brim over with mirth.

"I'm doing some...extra work," Malfoy said, coming closer so that Harry could read the title of the pink case: _Sex and the City - The Complete Series_. When he got over Malfoy's delicious clean scent, Harry gaped at him and then found his voice in annoyance.

"These are DVD's....so you have Muggle technology in your home! Why are you coming to class, then?!"

"Oh," Malfoy said cheerfully, "I simply _must_ have another reason." Harry blushed and clutched his cane closer as Malfoy's eyes raked over him. "And it's a good reason, too."

"Is it, now," Harry tried to deadpan and Malfoy simply laughed, shuffling other disks in his hand to show Harry.

"Here! I've also gotten _Apocalypse Now_. It's a war movie. You might get into it, I suppose, being a true Gryffindor soldier. And you simply must come and watch _The Silence of the Lambs_ at the Manor one day. It's full of spine-tingling suspense, you'll love it. You, being a flirt and all, must adore to have your spine tingled. Admit it."

Harry didn't realise he was actually chuckling at Malfoy's teasing until a tap on his shoulder alerted him to the clerk's presence. Malfoy's prattle was uninhibited, talking to Harry as if he was just someone... _ordinary_ , who didn't clump around awkwardly, depending on a slender cane for balance. He turned and smiled at the clerk, who had a bundle of old posters clutched under one arm and staring appreciatively at Malfoy. Harry felt a coil of irritation settle in his chest and somehow managed to thank the clerk politely before taking the large rolls of paper and bidding them farewell.

"I'll see you in classes tomorrow, then?" Draco called as Harry walked away, handing over his items to be paid for. "There is so much I can learn from you, Harry. So much."

Harry didn't know what possessed him to turn around and yell back, but the clerk was _right there_ and he felt so...territorial. It was the lion in him, he supposed.

"You can learn a lot more _out_ of class, I wager."

Draco's eyebrows were nearly at his hairline; then he recovered admirably and smirked as Harry's face heated and he hobbled away.

***

Harry was busy levitating the CD player in the air over his student's heads, casting a simultaneous magnifying charm so they could see the controls closely. For some reason, they found this the most interesting; they had been blasé about his light explanations of Muggle bars, theatres and parks because there were Wizarding counterparts. Even cinemas were received with polite interest, because moving pictures were everywhere anyway. But music and even long movies stored on these flat round objects intrigued them immensely. Harry had a vague understanding of how the music was recorded, then replayed with the laser and tried to explain this. He did a fair job, he thought, even breaking down the definition of what a laser actually was.

Harry ended the charms and then peered at Malfoy... who had one white earbud in his left ear as he blinked with boredom. Harry motioned at him, a little irritably.

"Muggles are interested in getting their technology smaller and smaller," Harry pointed out. The earbud floated out of Malfoy's ear under Harry's command, dragging its twin and the little cherry-coloured device with it. "This is so much smaller than a CD, but it can hold a lot more musical information."

"It's an IPod," Draco informed his neighbour, yet his drawl drifted to the back of the class. "IStunning. You don't get it?" He asked solicitously as the witch looked confused. "Pity."

"And this is a laptop," Harry said loudly, before he could laugh. "This is actually a part of next week's Communications class, because of an interconnected Muggle system called the Internet. But that's for next week. This is a portable version of a computer."

The majority of the class was checking the handouts he had given them at the start of the class. One tall wizard to the left put up a hand.

"Yes?"

"So... a computer is an _electronic device for the storage and processing of information._ How is this entertaining?"

"Because the information can be output in the form of movies and games. Many Muggles play different types of games on these. As a matter of fact, there are some computers specifically designed for gameplay... and the games can be put on disks, just like music."

The older wizards and witches looked a little unenthusiastic while the younger set simply looked eager. Harry was sure he heard Malfoy mutter something about an _X-box_.

"You know an awful lot about the Muggle world," he said to Malfoy as the blond came to stand distressingly near to him when the other students filed out at the end of class. He had given away all the posters to a few of them; they had commented over the static nature of the pictures. Malfoy inspected his fingernails.

"Yes, well, spy-work had me all over the place. And Muggles can be stylish. You know I love things that are _chic_ , Potter."

"It's a good thing I'm outmoded, then," Harry said, packing the laptop into its sleek case. Malfoy's hand landed on top of it as he zipped it shut, the white of his fingers almost shocking against the black of the case. Malfoy's breath was warm against his ear and Harry stiffened, mostly because he really didn't want to melt against Malfoy in the middle of his _classroom_ , for Merlin's sake.

"No, Harry," Draco murmured. "As I suspected, you have _no idea_ about fashion." He made a step back. Harry let down his guard just a little and Draco swooped back in for the kill, his lips actually brushing against Harry's ear this time. "You'd look good on me."

"Um," was all Harry had, staring at Malfoy's wide grin. Malfoy, damn him, just dropped an infuriating wink and strode out the door. Harry took five precise deep breaths, just as he used to in the war and Apparated directly from the classroom to the kitchen at home.

"Here are your things," he snapped, putting them on the eating counter as Ron stared at him over a large pot of soup. Ron's gaze turned sly.

"Malfoy getting to you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Harry yelled as he stalked off to his room.

"As if you don't like it!" Ron laughed as he set the spoon to stir. Harry glared at him before slamming the door and hurriedly stripping for a quick, healthy wank.


	4. Lesson 4: Muggle Communications

"Malfoy," Harry said clearly, his voice carrying over the muttering of the class as they settled down. "Kindly come over here and bring that device with you."

Malfoy blinked at him, looking oddly uncertain for about half a second; then that smug expression that Harry was so familiar with slid over his face again; getting up and walking towards Harry, he held out his hand, the look on his face almost as if they were in school again: slightly mocking and daring.

Harry gave a faint smile and gripped the top of his cane, feeling the finely carved griffin with its folded wings pressing into his hand. Reaching forward, he brushed his fingers against the cool dry skin of Malfoy's palm, lingering just a little longer than necessary as he plucked the dark-blue metallic object out of his hand. He held it higher, his gaze still locked with Malfoy's.

"It's a _Razr_ ," Malfoy said in bored tones as his eyes flickered in deep interest between Harry's eyes and mouth.

"My grandson has one of those!" an elderly witch called from the back, as Harry tore his eyes from Malfoy's. "It's a Sell Phone. I've never bought anything from it, though."

"That's not what they mean by _cell_ ," Harry said gently, nodding at Malfoy to remain where he was. "That's just a term they use to define the technology. This is used to communicate with people over long distances, like a fire-call. But you can't see them on these, only hear them.

"These are portable versions of telephones that people have in their houses. House-phones used to have cords attached to their bases, but now most come cordless. Those house ones still can't go too far from their base."

"Alright, Draco?" Harry said and Malfoy stared at him. The stare grew uncomfortably long until Harry remembered: He had called him _Draco_. "Um. Help me demonstrate a call on this?"

"Most certainly," Draco said, taking back the phone and flipping it open. He peered at Harry with what seemed to be a blandly polite expression, but no-one else could see the heat in his eyes. "What's your number?"

"Every phone has a series of numbers that you must put in to call it," Harry explained, blushing as he cast a shielding charm over Malfoy's phone and his. He told Malfoy his number and watched as Draco pressed the number-pad extravagantly. He was walking away from Harry, back to the blackboard to lean on it. "If you're in the same country, there are usually only seven numbers to put in. If you're calling someone in a different country, you will have to put in a country code before and then the personal number. On cell-phones, you press a little green button, or a small green symbol of a phone to activate the call. I find that home phones don't have that. They just automatically send the call once you press the numbers. The act of putting in the numbers for a call is referred to as _dialling_."

"That seems so confusing," the old witch moaned, clutching the brim of her small yellow hat. Harry's phone began to play a sharp upbeat tune and he fished in the pockets of his robes for it with his free hand. He opened his phone as Draco smirked at him, opening it and placing it at his ear.

"Hello, Harry," Draco murmured, a low, smoky voice wrapping smoothly into the whorls of his ear. Harry bit his lip and breathed deeply, resting heavily on his cane.

"Hello." He felt slightly absurd at having a conversation with someone who was standing just a few feet away from him. "How are you?"

"I've had better days," Draco said low. "But most things can be remedied by you in my bed."

"Is that so?" Harry said loudly, hoping that Draco hadn't been heard by anyone else. Looking back at his class, they only looked interested, not scandalised. "I thought that was some joke of yours."

"I don't joke about things like that." Draco's sultry speech had taken on a darker tone. "I wouldn't be _coming_ to your class and _learning_ things I already found out about in the war."

"What's he saying?" Someone yelled and Harry waved at them absently. Only Draco would do something like this _here_. It was annoying and intriguing.

Draco continued: "I'm not going to stop, you know. I'm just going to chase you down until you either give in or fall down from exhaustion, whichever comes first. That's a promise, the Malfoy way."

"Whatever happened to subtlety?" Harry wondered, blushing even more. The class was humming with curiosity.

"I used it all up in the war," Draco said shortly. "And you're a bit thick for subtle. Either that, or you have some issue with the cane."

"And here ends this conversation," Harry replied stiffly. "Goodbye."

"I see. Later," Draco said and snapped his phone shut. He brushed past Harry as he went back to his seat and proceeded to stare at him relentlessly as he went through the rest of the class. Harry, feeling ruffled, explained how Muggles got their mail, by address instead of exact location by owls and when he told then it was delivered by other _people_ , the class yammered at him.

"Calm down," Harry said gruffly. "They do it and mostly well. Of course, that takes a little time, the further it is. There is a quicker way and they call it _email_."

There was deep silence as Harry explained the interconnected electronic system called the Internet. It was a complex thing, explaining all the information that could be found on that intricate web, a vast storage-space that actually did not have a set physicality. He saw their eyes glazing over and hurried on to pass Ron's laptop carefully among them, opened to one of his own email accounts. The spell he had used to ward this laptop and the cell-phones was a bit more complex than usual; he'd had to ask Hermione to help him modify the ward to protect the _signal_ of the wireless connection as well. It wasn't very difficult; it just took a little more concentration.

He still felt a little tired by the middle of the lesson though, his knee throbbing as he went over the aspect of phone-calls again for the lady in the yellow hat. Then he had to explain email _again_ and by the time he finished class, satisfied that _most_ of them got the idea of the basic modern communication methods, his leg was _killing_ him.

"Come along, dear teacher," Draco said, grabbing him by the elbow as he tiredly packed up Ron's laptop. Harry glared half-heartedly. "We're going for a drink."

"I don't--" Harry started and then breathed out as Draco Apparated them both to a Wizarding bar, "--drink."

"You like to say _don't_ a lot, obviously," Draco noted, letting go of Harry. He gave Ron's laptop a cursory look and then reached for his wand, shrinking it. "Let's have a seat."

Harry pocketed the laptop and followed Draco with a great show of resignation, rocking back and forth on his cane. Some inebriated person fell against him; Harry's knee chose that time to lock up and he put a hand out, already prepared to fall.

" _Imbecile_ ," Draco hissed at the drunkard as he cast a rapid levitating spell, Harry’s face only inches from the floor. As soon as Harry righted himself, he took Harry by the arm again; to Harry's embarrassment, Draco _escorted_ him to the nearest booth, scowling at everyone in the way. A Malfoy scowl _did_ have its uses, Harry decided as he reached his seat in safety.

"Thanks," he muttered, pulling his robes close and setting the cane aside. "Butterbeer. Please."

"Anything for my favourite teacher," Draco said in the most pompous voice and Harry chuckled in incredulity. His knee was still hurting, he had a slight headache and he was _laughing_ at Draco Malfoy. _With_ him, because Draco was smiling back, eyes alight with humour. Draco took out a slim silver case and flipped it open. The table was so small, that he could feel Draco's knees pressing into his, gently. Draco shifted a little and their knees slid against each other, slipping side by side. Draco continued to smile, a little lecherously, as Harry flushed.

"Do you mind?" he asked, motioning to his cigarettes. Harry shook his head. "I only asked because I remember you had a lung infection right after the war."

"You remember that?" Harry watched as Draco lit the cigarette with his wand. The smoke curled out from between thin lips and Harry thought that as much as he wasn't into smoking, he could sit and watch Malfoy blow smoke rings all day. Draco shrugged.

"Give in yet?" he asked in return, looking at Harry from under heavy eyelids. "Or will it be a case of you going back to teach at Hogwarts in September and me sitting in your classes like a firstie. Because I can do that."

"Don't you have anything else to do?" Harry felt a little sense of desperation, but it was mostly covered over by a sort of concentrated excitement, settled right in his stomach. There was no pity in Draco's speech, no fawning, and no speculation over his magical strength. There was just the intensity of Draco's gaze, heavy stares on his face. "I mean... there must be others. More normal. More _whole_."

Draco tilted his head, the cigarette hanging loosely between long pale fingers. Harry sipped his drink and averted his eyes.

"There might be others," Draco finally murmured. "And there might be just you. Depends on what you're willing to learn."

"I thought I was the teacher here," Harry joked feebly. Draco's long legs shifted as he leaned forward and put his lips near Harry's ear.

"Learn things like... like how maybe _whole_ and _normal_ are not what everyone wants." His breath was warm and smoky; Harry closed his eyes and tilted his cheek almost reflexively against that mouth. Draco paused and then pressed his lips chastely against Harry's skin, following it up with a wicked little lick. Harry sighed. "Learn how the cane isn't really a crutch if you let it. Learn how... _attractive_ you are. I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"Well. I... I think you're attractive too," Harry mumbled, head spinning with everything Draco, smell, sight, sound, feel. Harry turned his head, going for taste, but Draco pulled back a little, his smile wry.

"Smooth, Potter. Very smooth. Of _course_ I'm attractive." He grinned at Harry's scoff and then leaned forward again, brushing his mouth against Harry's. Harry parted his lips tentatively and Draco sealed their mouths together, tilting his head as his tongue crept into Harry's mouth; Harry reached forward and ran a shy hand along that strong jaw, feeling the slight stubble under his fingers. Draco's hand caught his, pressing it flat against the pale cheek; Harry could see it so close from his half-opened eyelids, his hand relaxed under Draco's, his thumb stroking gently a little under the pale lashes.

Suddenly his knee flared up in agony as Draco pressed too hard into it and he gasped, breaking the kiss and pulling away. Draco looked aghast.

"Potter, my apologies," he muttered, reaching under and placing a hand on Harry's complaining joint. Frowning in concentration, he muttered a spell that sounded like a pain-killing charm Hermione had taught him, but not quite. The throbbing pain eased up, but didn't quite go away. It was a lot better than usual, though.

"Hey, thanks," Harry said, flexing the knee experimentally. "That's more effective than a _Mitesco_."

"It's a little stronger. Works to completely block the entire nerve-receptor instead of just at the point of pain."

"Okay. That's good to know." He looked at Draco and smiled, feeling the shy grin spread across his face. "But… maybe you have more to teach me?"

Draco actually looked surprised; then self-satisfied. He slid forward until he was at the edge of his seat, one leg now firmly between Harry's thighs, tilting Harry's chin up with one finger. He put out the cigarette and brushed Harry’s hair away from his face.

"First lesson," he said low. "How to kiss someone until they understand their appeal."

"Alright, sir," Harry smiled and fell right into eagerly learning this tutorial.


	5. Lesson 5: Muggle Transportation

[Lesson 1](http://megyal.livejournal.com/87187.html#cutid1); [Lesson 2](http://megyal.livejournal.com/90545.html#cutid1); [Lesson 3](http://megyal.livejournal.com/92865.html#cutid1); [Lesson 4](http://megyal.livejournal.com/95584.html#cutid1)  


"Muggle transportation...not as quick as Wizarding methods," Harry was saying, trying to get the dreamy tone out of his voice. He was firmly keeping his gaze away from Draco, sure that he would be over there smiling wickedly. Most things about Draco were wicked: his hands, his tongue, his voice; his penchant for finding Harry wherever he might be and _ambushing_ him... sensually. So far, over the past week, Harry had found himself panting in corridors and in Draco's car... which was a fantastic bit of work, by the way, red and low and _loud_.

His traitorous eyes slid over to where Draco sat. The blond was looking at him with innocent attention and Harry gritted his teeth, feeling like a fool for getting all worked up; right before he managed to pull his gaze away, however, Draco's expression took on a sly tinge, eyebrows arching up ever so slightly and Harry felt breathless, resting heavily on his cane.

"But all that power all around you, like in a car," Draco said slowly. "It's very... intoxicating. Isn't that so, Potter?"

Harry blinked at him. A few nights ago, Draco had insisted on taking him out to dinner at some pricey restaurant (where he could hardly recognise the food for what it was, it was all so fancy). Upon driving him home, Draco had stopped the vehicle, unbuckled both seatbelts and done what Harry had always read about in Hermione's 'hidden' romance novels. Admittedly, he had become a little overwhelmed, his magic setting off the wipers and the hazard lights. Draco had removed his mouth from Harry's neck and stared at him, blond wisps of hair rising on end.

"I'm... that's never happened before," Harry had claimed, eyes averted. "I don't-"

"I actually think it's incredible," Draco had replied with a gleam in his eye, his hand roaming down Harry's chest. _Heaving chest_ , Harry's mind amended wildly as Draco bit his earlobe delicately; he made a vow to never read Hermione's books again.

Now, he snapped back to attention as his class was asking _Draco_ about how a car worked; he tapped his cane smartly on the floor, gaining quiet.

"So. No Flooing, Apparition, broomsticks or other flying creatures. There are buses, but they do not operate like the Knight bus. They won't squeeze into narrow spaces. No Portkeys-"

"How do they _ever_ get by?" A plaintive note struck from the back and Harry smiled. This was the point that he had been aiming for: that realisation that not only Muggles did without magic, they got along quite fine. He adored his life as a Wizard; but he had grown up Muggle. Credit was due, he supposed.

"They do," he replied gently. "Massive machines to take them across oceans, smaller ones to take them across land. I believe Mr. Malfoy was showing you photos of his car?" Draco had the good grace to look sheepish. "He can also tell you that you need to be trained and licensed to operate a machine like that across the country. All countries have rules to be followed when one is driving their car. They still have trains...and carriages on few occasions, mainly for entertainment effect."

"There's something about a carriage ride," Draco put in loftily. "All that rocking and rolling. Such fun."

"If you're done with your Ode to the Carriage," Harry retorted, channelling Icy Snape as much as he could, "I'd like to speak some more?"

"Certainly," Draco smiled and winked. Harry hated it when he did that. It threw his attention to pieces. He gathered up the shards of his concentration and went through paying for transportation, recognising the different types, even some Muggle slang. Some of them were vaguely amused by Muggle money and of course Harry had to go into a discussion of the conversion value between pounds and Galleons. As he ended the class and shooed them out, he wondered if the Hogwarts' students would be as distracting come September.

Maybe it _will_ be distracting, he mused as Draco lead the way out of the Ministry building to his car, if Draco comes through with his threat to come to Hogwarts.

"What are you smiling at?" Draco asked as he backed out of a narrow space and drove out of the wards of the courtyard. They emerged in an alleyway and then onto the main traffic.

"I was just imagining you coming to Hogwarts and chasing me down," Harry said, turning to look out the window so he could hide his grin. Beside him, Draco shifted gears and chuckled.

"How do you know I wasn't doing it all that time?" Draco made a show of peering into his side-mirror as Harry gaped at him. "Of course, if you were my teacher _then_ as you are now, I'd be less subtle."

"If you were less subtle, I think you might have killed me," Harry muttered and Draco laughed merrily. The car was pulling that same trick as the Knight Bus, sliding into impossible spaces. In what would have been hours spent in traffic, they reached Draco's flat in a short time. Harry was surprised when he was brought here a few days ago: Draco's flat was smaller than he had expected, bright orange walls along a corridor that led from the front door to the living area. He had commented that orange was very close to Gryffindor red; in retaliation, Draco had pounced on him, then spent a few minutes soothing his aching knee, before kneeling to kiss it solemnly. Harry had pressed his hand on that bright hair, delighting in the feel of the soft strands before Draco slithered up and bit him gently on the mouth before kissing him deeply.

Now, Draco removed his over-robe and Harry stared at him before shaking his head in amused disbelief. Draco was dressed in the white shirt and striped tie of their school days, the material of the dark trousers hugging his thighs as he turned to hang his robe neatly in the closet. He held out his hand politely.

"If I may, Professor." Draco helped him out of his own over-robe while he held onto his cane with one hand, then the other, pulling his arms out of the long sleeves. Harry went over to the long sofa to sit down carefully, biting his lip as he tried not to laugh. Draco looked very serious.

"I realise I've been a little disruptive in your class, sir. I aim to change my behaviour." Draco was holding onto the end of his tie and flicking it thoughtfully through the air. "I'd like to start now, if you don't mind."

"Well. I think you've been a fair student so far," Harry said, watching in interest as Draco sat beside his feet on the floor, looking up at him with big grey eyes. "Unless you think you've been very bad."

"Oh, well," Draco said, kneeling up with all that grace that Harry had always admired and unbuttoning Harry's shirt rapidly. "I think I'm the worst of the lot. How pale you are!" He leaned forward into the open vee of Harry's legs and licked the exposed skin there. Harry's eyes fluttered shut.

"I don't play Quidditch anymore," he said softly and Draco kissed his collarbone. "No more sun."

"No more broomstick for you," Draco said just as quietly. "Does that make you unhappy? You can ride _my_ broomstick if you want, Professor." He clambered up into Harry's lap and straddled him with surprising care, kissing him deeply as Harry shook with laughter.

"I feel sad, sometimes," Harry admitted when Draco finally released him and slid to one side, arranging himself so that his legs were flung over Harry's lap. Harry still had his eyes closed and sighed at the feel of Draco's sharp nose nuzzling against his cheek. "No more wind in my hair... and the sky. The sky is so blue at certain heights. I took a plane once and it was that same deep blue, but it was so untouchable. On a broom--"

"--the sky is yours."

"Right."

"Like I said before, Professor," Draco said after a long, comfortable silence, speaking right into his ear. "You can ride my broom anytime."

Harry turned his head to make a comment about Draco’s persistent nature and moaned as Draco kissed him, a hand pressed against his crotch simultaneously. He hardened under that sure touch and quick tongue, fingers tracing the line of his cock through his trousers. He reached up one hand slowly to brush his own fingers against Draco’s jaw, trailing them down to wrap his hand in the Slytherin tie and tugging Draco even closer. His hips moved in small circles of their own volition, manipulated deliciously by Draco; he only knew when he was on his back on the sofa when his knee gave a slight twinge of pain.

“No, no,” Harry gasped as Draco made to lift back off him, grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling him back down. “You get back here. The knee can wait.”

Draco grinned and _ground_ down into him, causing Harry to writhe helplessly.

“You’re such a demanding professor,” Draco whispered. “I hope you’re like this… all the time.”

“With _al_ l the students?” Harry managed. Draco ran a hand through his hair and pulled a little, exposing his neck. Harry could _feel_ him, hard and hot and intoxicating and the combination of this and Draco’s warm breath against his neck caused his whole body to shake, his arms wrapped tightly around Draco’s waist. Draco’s own movements became erratic and he muffled a groan in Harry’s neck.

“Your knee?” Draco finally asked, when their breathing became regular again. Harry only made a contented noise and pressed a kiss near his ear. “Good.” He went up on his elbows a little and stared fiercely down at Harry. “Also, when it comes to this? _I’ll_ be your only student.”

“But there’ll be so many asking for my attention!” Harry cried mockingly and then laughed as Draco tickled him without mercy. “No! No, I’m sticky, Draco, give me a moment to cast a charm. Please.”

“I have a better idea, Professor.” Draco got up quickly and helped him to his feet. “How about you come to my room and I show you my broomstick?”

“You are a _bad_ student,” Harry grumbled as he leaned companionably into Draco and allowed himself to be guided away.


	6. Lesson 6: Testing Time

The soft scratching of quills against parchment surrounded Harry and he looked up from his book, eyes flickering over his class. He had given them a fairly easy test, all he'd talked about in the previous five classes. It was mostly multiple-choice; in some cases, there were even pictures. They would have to try very hard to fail.

He smiled a little, flexing his leg underneath the desk and thinking about how harsh he would have to be with the Hogwarts' children in a few months. He tried to recall what he had been like and smiled at the bright memories. Life had gotten so dark for awhile, he mused, his eye catching Draco's light hair. With a start, he realised Draco was looking back at him, an almost feral smile on his face. Predictably, Harry flushed and hoped that the charm he was using to conceal the romance-novel was holding up.

He had promised to stop reading them, after all.

A chime sounded in the room and Harry cleared his throat, placing his book in the side drawer. The students groaned, some still circling answers furiously and Harry flicked his wand with a wry twist of his wrist. Papers flurried all through the air and everyone ended up with a parchment that was not their own.

"Please look at the board," he commanded, pointing. Letters and numbers faded into view and Harry grinned some more as they groaned even louder. "Those are the answers to your quiz. Mark the paper you have in your hand... come on, get to it."

He watched their heads moved up and down, squinting at the answers on the board. As soon as the last person painstakingly made their checks, Harry did a Summoning charm, piling all the papers in a neat stack on his desk. He placed the tip of his wand on the topmost parchment, pressing a little; the edges of all the papers glowed, all different shades of green.

"Excellent," Harry declared. "No failing marks! You've all done well." He looked at their beaming faces and gave an indulgent smile. "I want to thank you for taking the time to attend this short course. Muggles have found ways to get through obstacles in their lives and even if we hide our existence from them, I think it's all important information that we should have some awareness of. I've heard someone say that we fear what we do not understand; I hope that you understand their lifestyle even a little... and feel comfortable in learning more."

The room was still, hanging onto his sentences. Harry cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"And... if you have any other questions, you may owl my public address. It is listed in the Wizarding directory. And I may be contacted care of Hogwarts in September... and email, if you like. Thank you, again. Your attendance was highly appreciated."

The class broke up, chattering loudly and they came up to him, singly or in groups, to receive a certificate. It was just the same bit of test-paper of each person he transfigured to a sturdier parchment, with their name in his long looping script. It had more glitter than he liked but they seemed to love it, taking it with playful grins.

Some of them were inviting him to a bar afterwards and he hesitated. Draco had his hand looped over the shoulders of one of those young ladies that was cajoling Harry, the sharp face completely unruffled. Draco had already said he would go, speaking loudly over the chatting of the 'graduates' and there was a compelling glimmer in his eyes.

"Alright, I'll go," Harry agreed, wincing at their whoops of delight.

As soon as their little group had apparated to the Wizarding bar, they found some free tables and chairs, settling into them raucously. To Harry's deep disappointment, Draco didn't sit near him at all; Harry was left to strike up friendly but quiet conversation with his students, trying desperately not to watch Draco out of the corner of his eye. He slumped a little in his chair, easing the pressure on his knee. He refused politely when they got up to dance and propped his cane next to him as most of them vacated to the dance-floor in a rush. Belatedly, he realised that Draco was not one of them that had stayed behind.

He sat up in his seat a little, trying to catch sight of the blond man; his phone began to ring in the pocket of his robes and he cursed a little as he grabbed for it and cast a hasty Shielding charm.

"Hello?"

"Harry," Draco breathed into his ear. "You must think I'm ignoring you."

"I...actually, yes," Harry admitted as he propped his elbow on the decorated plastic covering of the table. "I mean. If it was just a--a passing fancy for you, I would understand completely." He kept his tone light, but the silence that followed was anything but.

"A passing fancy?" Draco's voice was calm yet slightly brittle. "Potter. I do not do 'passing fancies'. It's a waste of time. I've been keeping away from you, because if I get anywhere in your general vicinity right now, I will tear off those sensible robes and take you over that table."

"Draco," Harry whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm--"

"And I've been working very hard at seducing you. I've done an excellent job and it will not be all for naught, Harry. Not at all."

"So am I just supposed to fall into your lap?" Harry asked, smiling. Draco was insufferable and brash. Harry found he liked that quite fine.

"Or me in yours, I'll be fine either way." The mood in the connection shifted slightly and Harry sat up, listening keenly. "Harry. It's not a passing fancy."

"Okay," Harry said softly, not quite holding his breath. "I mean, I'm an excellent teacher and there is no way you could have withstood my...um. Charms."

There was a short delighted laugh and Harry literally wallowed in the sound.

"Professor Potter," Draco finally said, getting over his chuckles. "Come stay with me tonight."

"Of course." Harry smiled into the phone.

They left together, the silence comfortable between them in Draco's car. Harry had never spent the entire night at Draco's home. There had been nights of overly patient groping, kissing and sucking, Harry spending half of the time trying to reconcile the smiling Draco with his memory of a petulant, spoilt Malfoy. Many times, he lay in the strong circle of Draco's arms, soaking up warmth until he shyly told him he had to go.

It was the slowest relationship Harry had ever been in and he actually was enjoying himself immensely. It felt as if he was...building something, something important and sturdy.

Also, it helped his ego a lot to be chased so relentlessly. It amused them no end when Draco did his student act, flashing those long pale lashes at him without qualm.

When they arrived at Draco's flat, Harry allowed himself to be gallantly assisted out the car, Draco’s hand warm in the small of his back.

"May I Fire-call Ron and Hermione?" he asked as he was ushered inside. "You know, to tell them where I am."

"Yes, of course," Draco said and wandered across to the bedroom, lighting a cigarette with a wand. The smoke wafted back to Harry as he sat slowly in a low, comfortable chair, activating the Floo and smiling as Hermione's green-tinged face came up in the flames, faint yells floating from her end of the connection.

"It's games night!" She yelled at him, her hair standing nearly on end. "Where are you? Everyone's here and Luna brought over that Centaurs and Castles game, you know you like that one. How was your last class?"

He laughed as she took deep breaths.

"It was great," he said, rubbing a hand down his cane. "Really." Harry paused and then gave her a small smile. "I'm over at Draco's now."

Hermione blinked at him and then turned her head slightly, shouting.

"Harry's over by his favourite student's house!" She giggled as the whole lot of them went _woooooo_ , childish prats that they were. He gave her a mock-stern glare and she brought her laughter under control.

"Oh, Harry," she grinned. "You deserve a little happiness, really. You're more whole than you ever were, I think. Maybe that pointy ponce completes you."

Another round of catcalls and whistles. Harry opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. He looked down at Hermione's massive grin, a smile that had been rare during the war. Times were quieter now; Aurors were still grimly chasing down a few dark wizards, but Harry felt his heart bloom in peace.

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said gently, her gaze shifting away to a spot behind him. Harry inhaled the smell of tobacco. "Good night, Malfoy."

"Granger," Draco said, kneeling beside Harry and looking up at him as the flames faded. They stared at each other, Harry taking in the planes of Draco's face, the way his eyes gleamed in the darkened room. He reached out a hand, touching fingers to the cool skin of his cheek, breathing shallowly. He remembered always staring at this skin when they were in the middle of planning strikes, wondering if he would see it the next day. The corners of Draco's lips twitched up a little and Harry felt the movement of press his cheek into Harry's fingers.

"What else would you teach me, Professor?" Draco said hoarsely. "I think I need a long time to learn it all."

Harry bent forward and pressed their mouths together, feeling the way Draco's mouth parted under his, how he raised up further to deepen the kiss, hungry and fast. His hands were rubbing up Harry's arms, resting heavily on his shoulders. Draco got to his feet, made awkward by the fact that he refused to stop kissing Harry, clenching his hand tightly so that Harry had leverage to get up. They hobbled to the room together, chuckling against each other's lips as they unbuttoned robes slowly. Harry got a good giggle at Draco's long, old-fashioned underpants and Draco's eyebrows reached his hairline when he discovered that Harry was wearing nothing at all underneath.

"I was just being prepared," Harry muttered as he was pressed into in the large, comfortable bed, the sheets cool against his back. Draco's mouth was all over him, lips testing at the skin around his nipples, biting gently. He felt his leg bend slightly, wrapped up in a cushioning charm, and bound tightly by Draco's magic. The blond positioned himself between Harry's legs, pressing one arm experimentally against Harry's knees, testing the strength of the invisible bind. Harry couldn’t stop staring; all this expanse of lovely pale flesh hovering over him, those long fingers pressing into the bone of Harry’s knee, hair falling over the light eyes.

It still prickled, a sharp scratch of pain, but this was overwhelmed by Draco's mouth sliding suddenly over him, accompanied by light touches against the insides of his thighs, stroking to push up his legs gently. The tight warmth of Draco's mouth caused him to arch his back slightly, gasping moans filling the air.

Draco pulled off him slowlyand turned to press his nose against Harry's bad knee. Harry stiffened and tried to move it away, but Draco's charms held it fast; Draco pressed a careful kiss to the ugly scar that wrapped around the kneecap and slid around to the back of the joint. Harry propped himself on his elbows, a fine tremor running through his body as he watched Draco press his cheek to the knee, like a comfortable cat.

He kissed it again and then a third time; before Harry could completely shatter, their gazes caught and Draco smiled, pursing his lips to blow long fine strands of blond hair out of his face.

"Ready?"

Harry nodded, allowing his elbows to relax as he felt Draco's fingers press around his entrance, slick and warm. He stifled a moan as Draco _petted_ around the puckered flesh, teasing him relentlessly with a series of tingling cleansing charms, before sliding his finger in to the knuckle. Draco murmured something too low for Harry to hear, his attention bent on his own fingers slipping inside Harry's body, feeling for that small mound--

 _Ah_ , Harry thought, feeling the sensation flare up within. _There it is_.

"Beautiful," Draco breathed, watching Harry's face; he shifted, coming forward and bending over Harry, the slick head of his cock nudging at the curve of Harry's arse. Harry pulled up his other leg, and grasped at the good knee a little self-consciously. Every thought about how he might appear to Draco fled as he felt the hard cock press and open, burrowing slowly, dragging him down and pushing him out at the same time.

He pressed his free leg against Draco's side as he fully seated himself inside Harry, heaving one hand to stroke in Draco's hair. Draco rotated his hips slightly before pulling back, causing low laughter between them.

"Harry," Draco muttered harshly in his ear as the pace between them increased, Harry's scarred leg secure in its comfort. Harry felt himself being held tightly, a mouth pressing desire into the crook of his neck and suddenly everything that he had ever disliked about himself was caught up in a rush of sound and feeling and heat. He heard Draco call his name again, a rough, desperate cry and he held on as tightly as he dared, so that Draco would know that he was learning all he could.

***

"I don't care what you've heard," Harry said firmly to his Muggle Integration class at Hogwarts, glaring at them in fond exasperation. "But I'm pretty sure a thong is not to be used as part of a slingshot."

The Muggle-borns dissolved into giggles and then sobered up quickly as Harry's sharp gaze swept over them. He was sure that they had been trying to lead their classmates astray and he would definitely talk to them later about it. It was all in fun, he decided as he dismissed them, but he really didn't need that type of fun in his class. At least, not all the time

He was charming their papers in a neat file and inspecting his Charms lesson-plans when a little origami dragon landed on top of the pile and preened at him. He smiled at the little paper figure and tapped his wand against one wing. It unfolded itself, revealing the familiar tight handwriting.

_Dear Professor Potter,  
As per your instructions, your most erstwhile student awaits his detention in your private rooms._

_Handcuffed._

_DM._

Harry clutched the little paper and laughed out loud. He really had so much to learn.

fin.


End file.
